"A soft landing" in the impoverished, interesting streets of Delhi

Bucket baths and walking

DELHI, India — The Master Paying Guesthouse (www.master-guesthouse.com) where I'm staying in Delhi is a no-star inn with five-star service.

When I read about what Avnish Puri, 50, and his wife, Ushi, 37, had done with his grandfather's former home in a residential neighborhood of central New Delhi called New Rajinder Nagar, I knew this is where I wanted to spend my first few nights in India.

After 26 hours of traveling from Seattle via Amsterdam, it was a joy to see a sign with my name on it being held up in the arrivals hall at the Delhi airport.

It was 11:30 p.m., and not only did Avnish and Ushi arrange for a taxi to meet us as promised, they arranged for one of their staff members to come along with the driver to welcome us to Delhi.

Six rooms share two bathrooms and showers on two floors. Ours has a balcony where I sat on our first morning listening to the bicycle rickshaw drivers ringing their bells as they pedaled along our street.

The housekeeping is immaculate, the air conditioning works and the price is right. A double is $25 a night.

The rooms are basic — think your grandmother's dark wood furniture, linoleum floors and low-to-the-ground twin beds. A card in the room urges guests to take something called a "bucket bath" instead of a shower to save on water.

Avnish, who was born in Delhi and once worked for the luxury Taj chain of hotels, is tour guide extraordinaire, and the neighborhood, a kind of third-world gated community, is a slice of Delhi I've not seen in pictures that stereotype the city as dirty and slum-ridden.

The buildings are low-rise stucco and brick in faded browns and whites. Stray cows wander the streets, dipping their noses into dumpsters. But on a walk my first morning, I also saw kids dressed in blue shorts, white shirts and ties being walked to school by mothers dressed in beautiful silk saris; a man getting a shave from a barber who sets up shop each day on the street corner, and smelled the scent of burning incense coming from a Hindu temple around the corner.

Delhi is not a beautiful city. It ranks at the top of the world's most polluted. But there are beautiful things and people to see here.

"A soft landing" is important for visitors trying to get their arms around the crowds, noise and traffic on their first day, Avnish told us as we sat with him at his kitchen table on our first morning to plan our day.

"Tomorrow, you can wear yourself out negotiating with the rickshaw and taxi drivers," he told us.

Today, he proposed, we could get an air-conditioned car and a driver for about $17 for the day, and he laid out a plan for tackling a mix of historical sites and shopping that would end with a bargain-priced $10 high tea at one of Delhi's most exquisite hotels.

Walking through the grounds at Humayuan's Tomb, a precursor of the Taj Mahal, built in the 1500s, I was struck at how easy it is to escape the traffic noise and congestion, and get a feel for what medieval Delhi used to be like.

Cobras and peanuts

Room rates at the Imperial start at around $225. The clientele is sophisticated and international, but a few feet from its marbled entrance on Janpath Road, snake charmers and peanut vendors own the sidewalks at the Tibetan Market.

Two men coaxing live cobras to rear their heads out of their baskets begged us to pay them to take their picture.

"Shoeshine, lady?" a boy asked while I was watching the cobras. "Five rupees ... OK, two rupees ... maybe next time? ... maybe next year?"

A man offered to sell me a bull whip; another offered what looked like a pair of size 40 boxer shorts.

I turned them down, including a fortune teller and a woman selling vibrating hair brushes.

And surprisingly, or at least surprisingly to me because I had heard that Delhi's touts and beggars are relentless, they all accepted a polite "no," and moved on.

The poverty here is jolting even if you've traveled elsewhere in East Asia. Thousands in Delhi are homeless and make their beds each night on the median strips of busy roads or on train-station floors. Many have no access to toilet facilities, clean water or sanitation.

Everyone with money in his/her pocket has to make a decision on what to do when a child comes up and asks for a few rupees as you're walking into a fancy hotel for tea.

Guidebooks urge tourists to make donations to relief organizations instead of encouraging begging by giving money. But there are other ways.

I bought some peanuts from an elderly man whose picture I took. Then I offered the nuts to a child who asked for money.

Was it the right thing to do? I don't know. I'm new to this and still feeling my way.

"Delhi prepares you for the rest of India," Avnish told me.

In the next two weeks, I'll find out if he's right.

Tomorrow: Hidden Delhi